


Dreams

by Yingfa



Series: Points of view [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-05
Updated: 2012-09-05
Packaged: 2017-11-13 15:10:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yingfa/pseuds/Yingfa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What hides under the mask we show to the world? Sometimes it makes us wonder if we are seen for ourselves, or for our facade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams

Does it matter??

After all this time??

I know. . . They've told me. . .

Not my fault, ja!! They don't even believe themselves, so why should I??

I only escaped that hellhole for my godson's sake. . . He's all that matters. . . He's all I have left. I'm not sane, at least I don't think so. It's funny to see the expression that comes into Moony's face whenever he's heard me speak like this. A cross between constipated and incredulous. That, and he'll always answer with something along the lines that none of us was ever mad. . . we just weren't entirely sane either.

Funny, isn't it?? That after all this time, they can barely believe I've changed. Goes to show what they now.

But, oh. . . I've changed. More than anyone that has ever known me would believe was possible. Azkaban is a terrible place, one that brakes you anyway it can. It might not have taken my complete sanity, but it has stripped me bare. . . it has revealed everything that lays within my soul. . . and it has found me wanting.

So it chucked me out. That's the only explanation I can come up with. Not even Hell wanted me, and so I've been allowed back into the land of the living.

Ironic, isn't it??

The moment I began to believe I might just have been a goner. . . and here comes the man that sentenced me to this half existence with a new purpose for me resting within his hands.

So I escaped. . .

I succeeded (in a manner of speaking). . .

And I found myself without a purpose. . . again.

The on-the-run godfather of the Boy-Who-Lived and his trusted sidekick, Buckbeack the hippogriff.

My life sounds quiet like the pathetic joke it is, doesn't it??

Less than a year later, and my inability to protect those that I love was once more rubbed into my face.

My godson was almost killed. . .

Voldemort came back. . .

And good, old me was sitting in the pumpkin patch. . .

Yes, laugh away. . . it makes me feel like crying (especially considering I was in my thrice-damned dog form, in which I CAN'T cry).

So. . . now old Moldy Warts is back.

Peter, the sniveling bastard, is back at his side.

The Deatheaters are on the move.

Let the games begin.

For this time, I'm not afraid.

I will teach them all, you just don't mess with the Black.


End file.
